


Casualty

by yeaka



Series: Random Roleswaps [8]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Blindness, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 20:38:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16730226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Prince Ignis visits his injured advisor.





	Casualty

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a series of unrelated FFXV roleswaps. This one was for Outofthesun’s “Prince Iggy/Advisor Prompto” suggestion. Lemme know if you want one.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Their accommodations in Altissia are far grander than they’ve enjoyed anywhere else on their road trip, even after the storm. The room that Ignis enters is the largest of the lot, covered in blues and golds and thoroughly expensive fabrics. The enormous bed against the far well is the focal point, and that’s where Ignis heads, taking care to keep his footsteps slow and even. The blond on the bed looks up at their sound, milky eyes peering out into the open space, just to Ignis’ left. Ignis comes around the side of the bed, where his chair’s still waiting.

When he settles into it, Prompto’s gaze refocuses. It still isn’t dead-on, and that’s a little disconcerting, but not as much as the mass of painful-looking scars that now mar the left half of Prompto’s handsome face. He’s burned and nicked and bruised in several places, easily the worst for wear, even though Ignis was supposed to be the only one fighting monsters. Prompto’s pale hands, for once devoid of gloves, are locked around the camera in his lap. The screen’s cracked, but it still works. Ignis tested it himself, scrolling back through all of their adventures, during the long stretches where his beloved aide remained unconscious. Now Prompto will never know if it takes pictures as well as it did before, or if his prince is just too full of pity to tell him the truth.

“We’ll stay here another day,” Ignis announces, because that’s what he’s spent most of the morning organizing, even though he used to have his advisor handle all his scheduling for him. “Gladio and Noct are helping with the restoration effort. We won’t be able to get much done before we head out again, but...” Ignis falters. _He_ should be the one out there helping, rebuilding the city he destroyed with his bare hands, but he can’t seem to bring himself to stray too far from this room. If he were speaking to anyone else, he’d end it there. But he’s never had to hide his true feelings from Prompto, and he quietly admits, “I caused so much destruction.”

Immediately, Prompto pulls to attention, insisting, “It’s not your fault. Seriously, Iggy—we couldn’t have asked for a more responsible and considerate prince. You did everything you had to do and more. It’s just... sometimes shit happens anyway.”

That doesn’t even begin to cover it. But Ignis doesn’t have the heart to keep stewing in his own self-sympathy with Prompto sitting next to him. He reaches across the thick duvet and puts one hand over Prompto’s, shifting it lightly away from the camera, just enough to curl around. Prompto’s skin is still warm to the touch—he’s always been hot in both senses. Ignis means to leave it there, but somehow admits anyway, “I’m selfish.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Ignis, you’re the most caring person I know, and you had every opportunity to be spoiled and lazy...”

“So many people lost their lives,” Ignis mutters. As his hand tenses up, Prompto’s thumb gently strokes over it, soothing him even now. Ignis chokes and keeps going, “Including the woman I was supposed to marry. I may not have truly known her, or any of the others that were lost, but they were _people_.” His hand might be trembling. It feels foolish, given how strong Prompto’s been. “...And yet, all I can think of is my own advisor...”

Prompto croaks, “I’ll be fine.” But he doesn’t _look_ fine. He lost _so much_ , all because of Ignis, and he’s the most deserving person in the world. It’s not _fair_. The fact that Prompto’s holding his camera, knowing he might never be able to use it again, only hammers home that point. Prompto seems to sense the mounting distress and amends, “Well, okay, things will be different... but, I... I won’t become a burden to you. I’ll do everything I can to learn—”

Ignis firmly cuts him off to correct, “You’ll never be a burden to me.”

Prompto smiles sadly. It might’ve been better to just frown. He says simply, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

Of course he would’ve. Ignis wishes he had—that it’d been him that picked up the ring and scarred himself to protect the ones he loves, that he’d been the one to sacrifice his sight so that Prompto might make it through in tact. He can’t help but think it would’ve been easier for him—he doesn’t have a love of photography, or even of fishing like Noctis or camping like Gladiolus. He wouldn’t have lost a passion, and he would’ve had so many people already taking care of him. He opens his mouth and promises, “I’ll take care of you, Prompto. I swear it. When this is all over, if, somehow, we fix it all, I’ll make sure you never want for anything. And... if it doesn’t work out... I’ll be there for you every moment...”

Prompto lets out a weak chuckle, reminding him, “That’s supposed to be _my_ job.”

“And you’ve done it. You’ve spent your whole life caring for me... making me pastries, picking me up from school, talking me through my first crush...” There are so many things Prompto’s done for him. Too many to count. But Prompto stiffens at the mention of a crush.

It takes a minute for him to answer, voice wavering with that typical sense of self-deprecating laughter, “Yeah... remember that blond cutie you liked so much, with the great skin and camera skills...?” 

“He’s still beautiful,” Ignis murmurs, voice thick with sincerity. He squeezes Prompto’s hand, looking right into Prompto’s eyes, even though he knows that Prompto can’t see him back. The new scars there are painful to look at, but only because it kills him to see Prompto hurt—they don’t actually detract from his appeal. He still has his cute freckles, mottled over in parts, but just as sweet in others. His lips are just as pink, his hair just as soft. Ignis still remembers meeting him when they were both children, taking his outstretched hand and smiling sheepishly when he shook it with vigour. Prompto was much wider then, his hair flatter and his styling toned down—he hadn’t yet come into his own. But he was still kind and funny and just the optimistic lifeline that Ignis needed. He couldn’t imagine ever dealing with the stress of the crown without Prompto at his side. 

Prompto’s head lowers, lashes heavy. He mutters, “And to think I used to say we couldn’t do anything because you deserved much better. Now...”

“You volunteered to give your life for me,” Ignis reminds him. “I’ll never forget that. And I’m _so_ grateful to have you. If you’d died out there...” Ignis doesn’t even like to think about it. He hesitates, feeling almost sick with worry, then presses, “I need you with me, Prompto. You’re the ray of sunshine that’s always kept me going, when everything else seemed so frantic and dark.” Prompto cracks a _real_ smile, and that fills Ignis with hope. “See... that smile right there is what makes this all _worth it._ ”

There are tears in the corners of Prompto’s eyes. He scrunches them shut, but the water bubbles up anyway, and Ignis frees his hand so he can use both to gently scrub the tears away. Then he leans across the bed to brush a chaste kiss over Prompto’s lips—tentative, at first, just letting Prompto know where he is. Prompto’s nose nuzzles into his, and Prompto gives in to another kiss afterwards, bigger and fuller, still relatively innocent but packed full of meaning. When they part, Ignis presses their foreheads together. 

Prompto mumbles, “Did they really give me such a big bed, or am I in the prince’s quarters?”

Ignis hums, “You’re where you belong.”

Prompto laughs. That sound means more to Ignis than Prompto could ever know. 

Prompto wraps around him for a tight, poignant embrace, and Ignis thrums with _love_.


End file.
